Deirdre talks with the brown-haired Norwegian slave girl named Inger, while Freydis chops clumsily at her herbs. She's a poor cook, since all her skills lie in using weapons.
I beat pieces of dried cod, to start a broth. I'm deeply pleased that most of the men chose to stay with Finn.
Freydis stops chopping and approaches me noiselessly, like a cat. She touches my shoulder and whispers, “He’ll regret what he said about Eirik.”
So she's been thinking of the yellow-haired man. I try to make light of it. “No one believed him.”
Her eyes widen with hatred. I wish again that Thorvald could be here. He was the only one who could reach her mind when it was so set on something.
Freydis’ gaze softens, as if she knows my thoughts. “I miss my middle brother. You know, even though Thorvald only knew you a short while, he told me you were the finest woman in Greenland.”
I continue adding cod to the broth. I know full well Thorvald loved his wife, Stena, and no one else.
“He even said he’d fight his own little brother for you, if he could. But of course he was already married.” She gives me a sly half-smile.
“Sometimes I think you hear too much, little sister.” I soften my tone, despite my irritation.
“But Thorstein was so different. He was always too concerned about himself.” Freydis rubs her stomach. “He took you on his fool’s errand, when he couldn’t even sail.”
True, when my red-haired husband of only a few months told me he must avenge his brother’s death, I couldn't believe it. It seemed a most un-Christian thing to do, although Thorstein never fully owned Christianity like his older brother, Leif. His mother wouldn’t stop dripping the words on him to take vengeance on the Skraelings, since his father was dead.
“And then he got so off-course, he arrived back in northern Greenland.” Bitterness sours Freydis' laugh. “He met his death because he didn’t listen to good sense, Gudrid. Your good sense.”
So...the family is aware I had begged Thorstein to stay. I couldn't support him, since everything we needed was at Brattahlid, and revenge was pointless.
“In fact, he never listened to anyone but himself.” She fishes leaves out of her hair. My laugh bubbles up and out, surprising her. She and her youngest brother were the same. Freydis always believes she is right. This is why she and Thorstein always clashed.
Deirdre and Inger edge closer to the fire, pouring milk into the soup. Inger gives me a hunted look. I switch to Scottish, asking Deirdre what’s wrong with the girl.
Freydis glares at me, since she knows no other languages. She returns to the herbs, green stems dropping to the floor with her careless chops.
“Inger is afraid,” Deirdre says. She comes closer. “She overheard Hallstein’s men, when she washed their clothes in the creek. They were bathing. One shouted at her to come over, and she refused. But she could hear them saying they would take what they wanted, soon enough.”
“Finn must know this.” I collect Freydis’ mangled herbs and drop them in the pot. “We have to protect the few women we have.”
“Make no mistake, you will be the prize, Gudrid. That old man would love to spite Karlsefni by taking his wife." Sometimes Deirdre’s insight alarms me.
Freydis no longer pretends to chop, but watches us out of the sides of her eyes. She moves toward the bench in the wall.
Finn and the men arrive for the meal. As they eat, I watch them from my spot near the fire. Some stare at the women openly. Finn talks intently with Snorri Thorbrandsson and doesn't notice. Thoughts creep into my mind. He married me only for my beauty and my position. He cares nothing for my safety. I push these doubts out; perhaps my first husband was this way, but not Finn.
Hallstein motions to me. I approach the table, so he won't think I fear him.
He slams his spoon down. “This broth is too thin, blaudur.” His lips curve at his insult, meaning that I am soft, weak, and womanly. I glance at Finn. He still doesn’t look my way.
Hallstein puts his arm around my waist, whispering. “Even so, blaudur, I enjoy a soft woman as much as the next man.”
I make myself small and slippery as an eel, spinning out from his grasp. As I walk back toward the fire, holding my green overdress tightly, he gives a low whistle.
“Mark my words, she has more fire than the redhead.” He pokes the yellow-haired man at his side. His friend has a section of hair missing from his beard, with a huge scar in it, no doubt won from fighting.
Freydis sits on the bench in the corner. Her eyes are shadowed, but she cradles her knife. It's lightweight, and curved especially for skinning animals. It has a metal loop that fits over her smallest finger. Although it looks harmless, I’ve seen her slash seals’ throats with it faster than I can blink.
Deirdre comes to me quickly. “You must have time to talk with Karlsefni. Magnus will sit outside your hut tonight, if you wish.” Blindness has given Magnus uncanny powers of hearing and smell.
“I am not the only woman in danger.” I turn from the men, ignoring a crude hand movement from the yellow-haired giant.
“Perhaps we all must gather in one hut?”
“Hallstein’s men would like us to be together, so they could take us easily, like fish in a barrel. No. We’ll sleep in our own huts, with our own husbands guarding us,” I whisper.
“You there, woman—more soup!” A man shouts to Deirdre from the table.
She takes his bowl, ladling up the thin white broth as she whispers. “One husband will not be enough to protect his wife, if they come in a group.”
I turn slightly toward the table, watching the men. Hallstein must feel my glance, for he looks up from his bowl and loudly smacks his lips.
“Then we'll be Vikings tonight,” I say. “Tell every woman and her husband. Tell every slave girl. If there’s to be bloodshed, it won’t be ours.”
Deirdre nods and returns the full bowl to the man at the table. Stirring the soup, I glance at Finn. He seems unaware of our guarded talk. But Freydis has missed nothing.
She walks over and squats next to the fire, extending her long, white fingers to the warmth. Her palm bears a mark from her hard grip on the knife.
“I know it all.” She leans toward me. “I may not understand Deirdre, but between her looks and Hallstein’s boldness with you, I can see what’s to pass. Tell me your plan.”
Her face is slightly fuller now from the pregnancy. In her cold blue eyes, there’s a hatred that can never be quenched.
“Just make sure Ref is armed every night until Hallstein leaves.” I hold her gaze.
Freydis nods and walks purposefully out the door. The men stare. It is uncustomary for a woman to leave until the men are finished eating. Whether she will even ask Ref for protection, I don’t know. But any man who tries to enter her hut is as good as dead.
Finn seems to wake and stands from his chair at the head of the table. He bangs his mug down—a sign for quiet.
“We have many preparations to make before we leave. Our men will go south next week, for Vinland. Hallstein sails to the north in two days. But what if the Skraelings return first?”
Magnus speaks first, dark hair hiding his useless eyes. “They came peacefully, it seemed. Perhaps we might trade goods with them.”
Snorri Thorbrandsson nods, even though peace-keeping has never been his strength.
Hallstein’s eyes blaze, eliminating any hopes for unity in this decision. He wants nothing more than to prove that his god will help him defeat the Skraelings.
“We’ll fight them if they come, of course,” he says. Several of his men bang their mugs in agreement. “And kill every last one!”
Finn looks thoughtful. “You're both right. We must be prepared to trade. And if they won't trade, we must be prepared to kill."
The men look to Finn, slowly nodding as they feel the power in his words. I'm proud to have married such a wise man.
All the men hit their mugs on the table. Finn has won a peace, for now. Conversations
begin about how to trade and how to hide the weapons.
The women and I collect the dirty bowls and mugs, loading them into our wagon to wash at the stream. My Snorri is safe in our hut, where another slave girl watches him. Women beg to watch over him, since he’s the only child here, until Freydis has her baby.
I can’t believe Finn noticed nothing, from the upheaval among the women to Hallstein’s lusty advances. The men’s unrest fills his mind now, I tell myself. It’s not that he doesn’t care.
I dread nightfall. I pray Finn returns to our hut by then. Otherwise, I'll be alone with my child, my seax, and my faith in a God who would make Thor quiver, if Thor were real in the first place.
Chapter Four
In the fading blue evening light, the men lean against the longhouse, sharpening weapons and sharing stories. I usually love this time of year, when I can watch the blue melt into the purples and corals of the sunset. But tonight, I ignore the beauty and use the light to watch for my enemies.
Near the woods, a low shadow moves near the trees. It could be the wolf.
Deirdre gives her dove’s call nearby, the signal that Magnus is in their hut, watching over her.
I can’t see Freydis’ hut, which is past the men’s houses. Hopefully Ref is back from the longhouse, ready to protect Freydis and the babe inside her. These Viking men are starved for female company. And when Vikings need something, they feel they can take it. Odin, the god of wisdom, rewards bravery, even when it’s driven only by the cowardice of lust.
As he often does, Finn lingers in the longhouse after the evening meal. How he missed Freydis’ threatening behavior tonight, I cannot understand. During the meal, she slammed half a stale loaf of bread on the table in front of Hallstein. Then she pulled out her own curved knife and slowly sawed off a piece. She stuffed it in her face, a hateful grin twisting her lips. Hallstein and his men sat as if tied to their seats. She ate every bite, leaving nothing for the men.
She gets her boldness from her father. I smile every time I remember my father-in-law. Eirik never feared for his own life, especially where his family was concerned. If he could only be in this hostile camp tonight, I could sleep soundly. But Eirik is dead.
I go back inside our hut to check on the fire. Snorri sleeps soundly, tucked into his cradle. His round stomach is full from the long feeding I gave him, in hopes he wouldn’t wake if there’s an attack.
Seax in hand, I go to the door and secure the deer hide. Then I drag a bench to the side of the door and climb up on it. This way, I’ll be taller than any man who comes inside. My seax will cleave his skull before he can look around.
Hours pass before I hear the men leaving the longhouse for the night. Hallstein boasts loudly about what he’ll do to the Skraelings, should they return. There’s no talk of women, so I begin to hope they've forgotten any plans.
But a voice sounds nearby, lower than the others. It’s the tall, yellow-haired man, who always talks as if he has straw in his mouth. The small stones in front of my door crunch as he walks by. He has wide shoulders and a large chest, with long legs. He reminds me of one of Eirik’s biggest bulls. Maybe he’s dumb as a bull, too—led by his desires, and not his mind.
The yellow-haired man has stopped outside my door, talking quietly to someone—perhaps Hallstein. One man gives a low laugh.
Then...nothing.
Snorri turns in his cradle. There’s no movement outside.
I bring the seax above my head and hold it, frozen. I was foolish not to tell Finn. What if he comes through the door first, and I don’t recognize his steps? What if I kill the one protector I have in this lonely, strange land?
A small, scraping noise starts at the back of the hut, near the midden pile. Someone could get in that way, but surely no one would do that, no matter how needy. It’s full of dung and rotting food. There's only a small door connecting it to the house, where we throw our waste out. It’s barely big enough for a person to get through, unless he bashes the frame apart.
Should I go to the back or continue guarding the most obvious entrance? The scraping turns into a chopping sound, as if someone’s hacking at the wood.
I'll stay at the front. By the time someone hacks up the small frame and squeezes through the back opening, I'll be right there to lower my seax.
My nose tingles, a sneeze building. Halldis always told me, “The trolls will drive you mad with the little things.” But I hold the sneeze in. I don’t believe in trolls anymore.
Logs topple in the fire, sending sparks through the hole in the roof. I focus on the small patch of sky, the same color as a baby seal.
A woman’s cry drifts through the air, from the direction of Freydis’ hut.
My arms begin to cramp. I twist the seax down, resting it between my feet. I can still bring it straight up into the face of anyone who comes in.
Stiffness seeps into my legs. The chopping stops, but I can’t stop clenching the seax. My legs are numb when a man’s boots crunch on the door stones.
“Gudrid,” Finn whispers. Thank God he speaks first, before entering.
“Here,” I answer. His beautiful curly head comes into view. I collapse onto the bench, dropping my seax. He catches me before I slide onto the floor. His jaw is clenched, and his blue eyes are dark as night. The sinews in his arms tighten, strong as ship’s ropes.
I wait for news, unable to speak.
“One of the slave women was attacked,” he says.
I nod.
“But now the women are safe.” He pulls my head into his chest, stroking my hair. “It won’t happen again. I talked to Hallstein.”
He had time to talk to Hallstein?
“They’re leaving in the morning. They must pack tonight.”
From the hard glint in Finn’s eyes, I know Hallstein won’t dare fight him on this.
“Should I have Deirdre come to stay with you tonight?” He pushes my hair out of my face and carries me to our straw-stuffed bed.
“No—only you.” Surely he will stay with me.
Finn’s eyes soften to light blue. He pulls down the wool blankets and curls up behind me. Later, when he drapes the cold mesh chainmail over me, I barely stir. Leif’s chainmail. Finn must have borrowed it. And Leif loans nothing, unless he’s sure he’ll get it back someday.
Chapter Five
Before the morning sun creeps through the crack under the door, Snorri whines, as if he doesn’t have enough strength to push his voice out any farther. I can’t stretch my arms, numb from the heavy chainmail. Its links are pinned tightly to my body by Finn's arm.
“Finn.” I straighten my left foot into his leg.
“Mmmm?” He’s not fully awake yet.
“I can’t get up.” Snorri’s whining spirals higher and higher.
“Yes.” He rolls over, freeing me from his arm.
I push the chainmail off, but he wraps his arm around me again.
“Fi—” He rolls over on me and stops my words with a long, meaningful kiss. It's as if he is trying to speak all his feelings with his lips. Sadness wraps the kiss—a sadness loaded with the possibility of death.
Snorri’s cries are so high, we can hardly hear them. His arms flail above the sides of his cradle.
“I must go to him.” I pry Finn’s arms off my sides, sorry to abandon those plush, salty lips.
Finn smiles lazily, then walks to the cradle, wearing only his long, walnut-colored tunic. He brings Snorri to me, placing him gently in my arms.
“Thank you.” I move my shift to nurse my hungry, red-faced child. He immediately latches on and drinks as if he’s never been fed before.
“You've done well with him.” Finn’s eyes shine as he strokes Snorri’s soft curls.
I wait for him to continue.
“We must leave here soon.” He made this announcement to the entire camp yesterday, so why is he telling me again?
“And if we don’t find Vinland?” I ask. He must worry about Leif’s response if our ships return empty.
His eyes deepen. Finn is a planner, a man who likes to know the next step. But he wasn’t planning on the Skraelings. He wasn’t planning on Hallstein. He doesn’t know the next step.
Snorri sighs, and I open his tightened fingers, shifting him to the other side. Finn stands and begins dressing, taking with him his warm scent of sea and pine. I wish he could wear the chainmail today, but it fits outside his clothing, and would be an obvious sign of fear. Instead, he straps his sword on one side and his knife sheath on the other.
A triple knock sounds on the door frame. It must be Magnus. He comes every third day, to accompany the women for the washing at the creek. Magnus is the most trusted man for the job, because of his blindness. No one can sneak up on him. And he can’t watch us as we bathe, so we have privacy.
Snorri’s head pulls back, drunk with my milk. I kiss his forehead and pass him back to Finn. Soon Nerienda, the oldest woman in the camp, will arrive so I can go to the creek. Leif practically forced Nerienda on us when we left, because he knew of her skills with woodland plants. A slave woman from Wessex, she knows which plants lend soups flavor and which plants kill. But Leif also knew of her fame as a midwife, and he wanted her with me when I gave birth in this friendless land.
Deirdre says Nerienda is lazy. True, she doesn’t like mundane chores, like carding wool or milking cows. But she has jumped from her bench, even faster than I could, to keep Snorri from touching one coal on the fire. I don’t question her care.
I gather our dirty clothes into a basket Deirdre wove from vines in our woods. Finn stands in front of the door, as if hesitant to let me go out. Perhaps last night made him fear for my life. He has said nothing of who was attacked, but I know the women will tell me the details soon enough. I put the basket down and wrap my arms around him, kissing him full on the lips, before Magnus raps again on the frame.
God's Daughter (Vikings of the New World Saga) Page 3